The Gamal (7 page)

Anyhow back to Sinéad and I meeting her first. I was very small. She was even smaller. Mrs Fatty Fitzhenry was huge. I seen Sinéad and looked at her and watched her times before this but this is the day I met her. She was new in the school. It was senior infants class. That means we were five or six. I was seven cos I was kept back one year to do junior infants all over again cos of my behaviour troubles.

I was in trouble with Mrs Fitzhenry a million times but this one time sticks out in my mind cos it made me meet Sinéad. I tore Anthony Murphy’s jumper by accident eejiting around in the queue to go back into the classroom after lunchtime.

—Is this the kind of carry on we can expect in Ballyronan Primary School? In a nice area like this? You wouldn’t get the likes of you in a school for gypsies. Thugs like you tearing the clothes of decent children? And you’ve your poor mother and father’s hearts broken with the carry on you have. Decent hard-working honest to God people and look at the son they have? A tearaway. And your sister and your cousins went through this school. And never an ounce of trouble from a single one of them. Lovely people, the whole lot of them. And then there’s you. Where in the name of God did you come out of at all? A thundering ruffian. You don’t care about your schoolwork and you don’t care about the other children. Do you care about anything? Or anyone?

Her big long nose was inches from my face and her spit was spraying on me. I knew she was best friends with Anthony Murphy’s mother. I seen them go walking together in the evenings and they were in charge of the choir in Mass too, the two of them. I felt like boxing her in the face but I didn’t want her to stop. I’d never seen anything like this before. I gave her a little smirk to see if I could get her head to explode.

—Are you smiling? My God. Do you think this is funny? You may have your learning problems but plenty of boys and girls have learning problems too and they don’t go around being the greatest little brat that God ever put life into. Your poor parents. What in the name of the good Lord will you amount to at all at all? Well? I’ll tell you. Nothing! That’s what you’ll amount to. Anthony will get his jumper fixed. And he’ll do very well in life. But will you? You’d want to get your mind fixed first you little tearaway brat.

The nostrils were flaring and she was after going the colour purple.

—Miss.

—Sit down and don’t interrupt.

It wasn’t me that was after interrupting.

—Miss.

—I said sit down!

—Miss you shouldn’t say those things.

—Sit down I said.

—No miss. I don’t think you should say those hurtful things to Charlie.

—Sit down.

—It’s not right for you to talk like that to him. Those things you said could hurt his feelings.

She went down and marched the little girl out of the room and stood her facing the wall in the corridor. When she came in she was out of breath. She said,

—Charlie McCarthy get back down to your seat out of my sight.

In my seat afterwards thinking about all the things she said to me. That’s when the tears started rolling down my face. They all went on with their lessons. Every once in a while someone would turn around for a look. I’d pull a face at them or mouth at them to fuck off or I’d kill them. At small break I sat under the oak tree and scratched the earth with a stick. Then I heard a girl’s voice that I recognised. It was the girl that spoke up for me.

—Don’t be sad. I think you’re a nice boy, Mrs Fitzhenry was wrong to say them things.

I looked up at her and she smiled a little to me and then she turned around and walked away. Sinéad.

She was only five or six then. About a year later when we’d a different teacher Mrs O’Riordan Sinéad arrived in the door of the classroom in the morning and she half an hour late about. She was all out of breath and her hair was a mess and her face was white and she’d no tie on and she’d runners on her feet instead of shoes and she had no socks on. Everyone in the class turned around and stared at her. Mrs O’Riordan asked her if she was OK. Sinéad said yeah and started crying. Then Mrs O’Riordan walked back and guided her back out of the classroom. She stayed with her and Master Coughlan came in to us instead. We didn’t see Sinéad until small break. She stood alone at the gable wall. Leaning against it she was with one knee bent so the sole of her runner was flat against the bottom of the wall. None of the girls went over to her. I went over to her. I asked was she OK and she nodded that she was. Her eyes were puffy from crying. She took a deep breath every now and again and just looked at something far away or maybe at nothing I’m not sure. Then she’d look at something or nothing for a bit in the other direction. She squinted a bit as if the sun was in her eyes every now and again too but there was no sun only clouds. I wanted to be superman and pick her up and fly her away. Anyhow it wasn’t too long after that when James arrived.

I’m going for a walk now.

I went for a walk that time earlier on. I went down along the river. I was sitting on the river bank. A couple who live up in the new houses passed me. They were out for a walk. I could hear the woman saying to the man as they came closer,

—I think he’s upset.

The man didn’t want to know. ‘So what?’ he said. ‘I’m sure he’d prefer to be left alone.’

—Do you know who it is? It’s the boy from the

—Yes I know. Just leave it.

Then they walked passed me. ‘Hiya,’ said the man. I said ‘Hi,’ back. My voice squeaked a bit on account of my crying. They walked on anyway. Next thing I hear footsteps coming up behind me and the man saying, ‘Fuck sake,’ under his breath.

—I know you.

It was the woman.

—You’re the boy from . . . her friend . . . isn’t that who you are? Charlie, that’s your name isn’t it? You poor fellow. Is that why you’re crying?

She put her arm on my shoulder.

—Is that why you’re crying?

—Yeah.

My words barely squeezed out of me, whatever horrible place they were coming up from. Place of horrors. I didn’t tell her all the stuff that I was thinking of. All the stuff that I knew. All the stuff that I’ll keep trying to tell you. If my brain will let me. Little bit at a time, Dr Quinn says. Small steps. Instead I said to this woman,

—I’m just a bit lonesome today, that’s all.

She asked her husband if he’d a clean hankie. He took a fabric one out of his pocket and looked at it for a second before handing it to his wife, who gave it to me. He said,

—Go on, use it, I’ve tonnes of them.

Just as well he did cos I was destroyed with tears and snots and your one’s pity was only after making me worse. I started doing that hiccup crying. You know the one. Makes it hard to talk cos you can’t catch your breath and your shoulders jump like you’re being touched with a cattle-prod. I thought it only happened to kids but fuck it didn’t I get a right fit of the hiccup crying myself after this one put her arm around me.

Before Sinéad

It’s not that I can’t remember my life before Sinéad. I can. But there’s nothing to say. I may as well have been dead or never born. I never spoke to anyone except maybe a small bit at home if they asked me a question that I could answer. Like,

—Was school OK today Charlie?

—Yeah.

—Charlie will you come down for your dinner pet?

—Yeah.

—Charlie are you coming to the match?

—Yeah.

So when I wasn’t answering questions or at a match with my father I just watched television and when I wasn’t watching television I just put on my mother’s records and tapes in the sitting room. Sometimes I’d go down to the shop with my mother and everyone would be saying hello to me cos it’s nice to say hello to fellas like me.

—Hello Charlie.

—Hello.

—How are you doing Charlie boy?

—Hello.

—Helping mammy with the shopping Charlie?

—Yeah.

—Good man.

And then at night time I’d go to bed. And then the next morning I’d go to school and it would just go on like that the whole time. Not much to say about the time before Sinéad.

But then Sinéad was my friend and it was different then. Cos even when I wasn’t with her I had her to be thinking about. I remember thinking God was lucky I didn’t believe in him, the abuse I’d give him. I’d really have hated him. Cos I knew that some day Sinéad would have to die, same as everybody else and that was the wrongest unfairest meanest thing ever. One time Sinéad goes that if she ever died she’d like Katell Keineg singing ‘The Gulf of Araby’. I wish I never thought of that now. Or the words of it. Forget about that. Cunt of a song. I’m going for a walk.

At lunchtime in school I used to climb up on the big oak tree at the top end of the slopey football pitch out the back of the school and Sinéad used to come over. She’d stand under the tree. Or sit down if the grass was dry. Sometimes she’d sing. There’d be no one to hear way up by the oak tree only myself and the tree.

—What do you think of that Charlie?

—It was nice.

—Do you like my voice?

—I do. I think your voice is fierce nice.

One day I brought her in a record for her to listen to. Roy Orbison it was. She said they’d no record player at home. I brought her in a tape of Elvis Presley. She said they’d no tape player at home either.

—No Charlie. I’m not taking gifts from you OK?

They weren’t gifts anyhow. It was no big deal. I just wanted her to have them. To have something I gave to her. At home. In her own room. Next to her even and she sleeping. And it to be music. And if she was listening to Elvis or Roy Orbison she might think of me. Music kind of hypnotised Sinéad.

Like the time of her Holy Communion. That’s when Catholics receive the body of Christ for the first time. It happens when you’re in first class, so she’d have been six or seven. I got my Holy Communion when I was eight though cos Father Scully didn’t think I knew my catechism. Who made you? God made me. Who is God? God is the creator of Heaven and Earth and of all things. Why did God make you? God made me to show His goodness and to make me happy with Him in Heaven. What does God know? God knows sweet fuck all cos he doesn’t even exist. A fly knows more. Anyhow all the girls were in white dresses and Sinéad was too except she had on a red coat over it that she forgot to take off in the church. Anyhow up they all went about three-quarters way into the Mass. Up to the altar in a line. The boys on the left, the girls on the right. The boys in suits like small little car salesmen and the girls like baby brides. While they were going up someone started playing ‘Ag Críost An Síol’ on the violin cos the children couldn’t be singing then in case the body of Christ would fall out of their mouths. I turned around to see the person playing it up on the balcony. A woman it was. She was standing in front of the big window so the bright grey clouds made a black silhouette out of her. A magic shadow making this sound. Made the church same as a ship. Or a spaceship. Gliding or something.

After a bit I turned around again to see them all getting their Holy Communion for the first time. Then I seen Sinéad in her red coat still in her seat by the wall and she looking back up at the balcony where this music was coming from. Next thing they all starts coming back in a lovely neat line with their hands joined in prayer at the breastbone, fingers pointing up to the heavens like they were taught. And Mrs O’Riordan’s lips like she was sucking up a string of spaghetti and her nostrils flared like she just got a whiff of a terrible stink but wanted another sniff to see if ’twas really that bad and her eyes opened wide and they darting from child to child making sure that they’d all be a credit to her in front of the whole parish and not disgrace her in front of the whole parish. Next thing Mrs O’Riordan sees poor Sinéad. Or poor Mrs O’Riordan sees Sinéad. Or poor Mrs O’Riordan sees poor Sinéad. Sinéad was in her own world facing the back of the church looking at the violinist up on the balcony. Mrs O’Riordan closed her eyes fierce tight for a second and turned around and walked back to the altar to call the priest back for to give one more child the bloody body of Christ. The priest came and stood holding the chalice while Mrs O’Riordan went back to Sinéad with her head tilted forward and to the side like Father Scully was after hitting her on the back of her head. She wore a smile like she’d a pain and a face on her as red as Sinéad’s coat. She ushered Sinéad off up and sat back down. Couldn’t see Mrs O’Riordan’s face any more now but I’d say it was very red cos her two ears were. Very. Anyhow she didn’t scream, ‘Fuck this shit,’ and her head didn’t explode. It stayed still, just tilted forward still and a little to the right side. Sinéad was less fazed by her lonely journey up to Father Scully. She didn’t look at Mrs O’Riordan on her way back, just up at the moving outline of the violin player up in the balcony where the music was coming from. James didn’t even know her then. But the next year he did. Cos they were eight when they met.

Sound

The sound of them was how they met. This one day she never came over to me at the oak tree out on the school field. I was watching a dog all serious watching nothing the stupid way they do. I was thinking about Sinéad and if she was taken home lunchtime or what and I was hoping she was feeling happy wherever she was. Or maybe the other girls were being nice to her and letting her play with them. One girl used to be nice to her that time. She was called Jane. She’s still called Jane today and she’s all grown up and working and driving and going shopping and going on holidays.